


Ghosts in My Machine

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Deus Ex Machina, Dorks in Love, Fix-It, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 03:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5190521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate Naruto ending, in which there are ghosts with a plan, teams reunited, apologies, and happy endings all around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts in My Machine

**Author's Note:**

> I reread the ending of Naruto and it completely pissed me off, even as it broke my heart. Again. So, to combat: completely unrepentant fluff without any hint of plot, OTP kisses, Team 7 cuteness, and a much, much happier ending. 
> 
> (The title is from the Annie Lennox song by the same name, which is one of my Obito Songs. I can't even bring myself to feel sorry.)

There is darkness, and weightlessness. It feels like falling, or maybe like coming home, full of a gentle heat that warms his bones and makes Obito take his first full, painless breath in what feels like years. He inhales gratefully, greedily, letting air slide like damp silk down his throat, thick and heady with the familiar, long-missed scent of roses.

“Rin,” he whispers, and opens his eyes.

It’s white, sheer brilliance all around him, but the only thing Obito can see is Rin, crouched beside him on her knees, leaning over him with one hand on his chest and fire in her pretty grey-brown eyes. She’s so beautiful, so strong, and Obito has missed her so much that it tore the heart right out of him. Her glare is the one that he remembers best, a sharp-edged look that says Obito has done something unspeakably stupid once again, and he can't help the crooked half-smile that pulls at his lips in response.

She doesn’t have to tell him. Obito knows exactly how stupid he’s been.

“Rin,” he says again, a little more firmly this time, because she’s not a dream or a hallucination, but _here_. Really here, and when Obito lifts a hand to where hers is pressing him flat, he can feel the warmth of her skin, its softness in between her shinobi’s calluses. “Is it…over?”

“Obito, you idiot!” Rin bursts out, but that’s her worried tone, not her furious one. There's a thread of anger in there, certainly, but the look in her eyes is more relieved than anything. “Doing all of this for me—”

“For me,” Obito interrupts, tipping his head back against the smooth ground and letting out a short, sharp breath. “Not…not for you, even if that’s what I told myself. It was all for me, because I couldn’t—. You were dead, Rin, and I didn’t want to live in a world that didn’t have you in it. I'm sorry for using you has an excuse. I'm sorry that I did all of this in your name.”

Her gaze softens, eases, and she reaches out to press her palm against his scarred cheek with a warm smile. “I've always loved you, Obito,” she murmurs. “Maybe—maybe not the way you wanted me to, but I did. You’ve always been my best friend. You know that, don’t you?”

Obito smiles back, because he does. He always has. And…he loved Rin, loved her in every way possible, but he never really _minded_ that she didn’t love him back like that. Just having _her_ was enough, being able to walk next to her, or see her each day. And if she’d ever found someone else who loved her back, he could have…managed. Maybe not immediately, but he likes to think that he loved her enough that he would have been happy for her eventually.

Not with Kakashi, but then, Kakashi is…complicated.

“Of course,” he answers, and tries to sit up.

Expression settling into intractably stubborn lines, Rin pushes him right back down. “ _Stay there_ , Obito,” she warns, her voice fierce.

Obito freezes, because that tone always bypasses his brain and goes straight to some sort of animal instinct that has long since bared its throat for Rin and Rin alone. He blinks, first at her and then at the hand on his chest, and…

And there's a glow. Faint but definitely present, a pale green glitter Obito recognizes easily, even though it’s been years since he saw it, felt it last. Rin is pouring her chakra into him, and now that he’s concentrating, he can feel it tingling all the way down to his fingertips, sliding into every cell and renewing it. He catches his breath, tries to ask the obvious question, but before he can Rin’s free hand moves from his cheek to cover his mouth.

“This is _my choice_ ,” Rin tells him, still fierce, but this time it’s full of warmth and clear affection as well. “I've spent long enough in the Pure Land. I’ll reincarnate, the way I should, and the last of my chakra should be enough to rebuild your body. You helped them defeat Kaguya, Obito. Naruto declared you a hero. You finally came back to your senses and stopped following the wrong path. If you think I'm going to let you duck out early after all you’ve gone through to get this far, think again.”

Obito's eyes widen, and even if he was allowed to speak, he likely couldn’t find the words. Because it’s impossible. Rin is dead, and so in he. Even if Kaguya hadn’t killed him, Madara forcing him to use the Samsara of Heavenly Life technique was already draining him slowly, demanding its price. He was doomed, and he _deserved_ it. For all those he killed, for all those he betrayed, he’d earned nothing less than death.

Because she’s always been able to read him, even through his best masks, Rin just smiles at him. The air around them is getting brighter, and though it wasn’t blinding before, it’s nearing that now. But Obito can still see Rin clearly, can see the certainty and fondness in her eyes as she says, “ _Maybe_ you deserve this, Obito, but no one else does. Think of Kakashi. He’s already lost you twice. Do you really want to do that to him again? Even if no one else in the world has earned your loyalty, stay for Kakashi. He needs you.”

Her hand lifts away, and Obito closes his eyes, torn between shame and relief. “I would have used the resurrection technique on everyone we lost in the battle,” he whispers. “I killed them. It’s only fair that—”

A finger against his lips, but it’s far gentler this time, and when he looks up Rin is beaming at him. “We’ll take care of it,” she says, and he can't help but believe her. There's a figure next to her, shadowy and faint even in the midst of white brilliance, but the hands that reach out to touch Obito—

Those are familiar. Those are dear, and so very long forgotten. Obito's breath catches on something close to a sob, and the woman cups his cheek carefully, delicately, as though he’s something valuable.

“You had such a hard time, growing up,” she whispers. “I'm so sorry, Obito. Can you ever forgive us?”

There's nothing in all the world except light, filling every one of his senses clear to bursting, but in that last instant before the weightless peace is gone Obito reaches up to touch his mother’s hand and whispers, “Yes.”

He thinks he sees her smile, feels Rin lift her hand and whisper, “Done!” and then there's nothing left but darkness.

 

 

Somewhere very, very far away, there's grass beneath him and the smell of torn earth and smoke, spent chakra like a heavy mist upon his senses. He takes a breath and it _burns_ , like it’s the first, like he’s never breathed before. Someone shouts, and then someone further away echoes it, and then another and another.

All Obito can hear is the rasp of breath, his own breath, a hundred breaths spread across the battlefield as the dead wake once more.

And—

_We’ll take care of it._

“Thanks, Rin,” he whispers, lips curling into a smile that the scars pull crooked. He wants to open his eyes and see the sky once more, wants boundless blue to welcome him back to life, but he’s too tired.

But it will be there when he wakes, of that he’s sure, and that’s enough of a comfort to let him slip gently down into darkness.

The last thing he hears before the waves sweep him under is a sharp, urgent cry of, “Hatake! Over here! It’s him!”

 

 

His next return to consciousness is easier, like slipping through warm water rather than wading through syrup, and he sighs out a breath of honey-sweet contentment. There's something soft beneath him, something heavy covering him, and he’s fully warm for the first time in years. No tension sparks through his muscles, no discomfort weighs him down. It’s almost like floating, like the moment before he came fully to in that strange white in-between world. Peace and contentment and safety, and somehow Obito isn’t surprised at all to open his eyes and find himself in Konoha's hospital.

“You were shivering,” a quiet voice says to his right, and Obito muzzily turns his head, blinking through the golden wash of evening sunlight to smile at the man in the chair beside his bed. Kakashi's breath catches, soft and barely audible, but Obito hardly notices as he curls his fingers into the thick softness of the quilt covering him.

“’M always cold,” he murmurs, trying to keep his eyes open. It’s getting easier to resist the pull and drag of sleep, but only if he focuses. Waving his right hand vaguely, he adds in explanation, “Part of…not being real.”

Long, strong fingers catch his wrist, then curl tight around his palm. “You're real,” Kakashi says, low and intent, and in that moment he sounds almost as fierce as Rin. “You're really here, Obito. You're _alive_.”

Obito blinks at him for a long moment, and it’s _weird_ , seeing Kakashi without one Sharingan eye. He’ll have to change that, he thinks. After all, it was a gift, and Obito isn’t the type to renege on something like that. “No,” he says slowly, still sorting through Kakashi's words as his brain wakes up. “I meant…” With a faintly exasperated sigh, he reaches up with his free hand to rub at his eyes. “Bakashi. I know this is real. Rin told me what she was doing. I just meant my body. The right half—it’s made up of cloned cells. It’s never really felt like…mine.”

There's a long, stretched moment of silence, and then Kakashi laughs. It sounds like a sob, like something wrenched up from deep down inside him, and his hand tightens almost convulsively on Obito's. He pulls Obito's hand up, bows his head and presses his bare forehead against it with his shoulders shaking. “You're alive,” he chokes out, rough and low. “Gods, Obito, you died for me _again_. And I—I can't—”

Rin’s words are loud in Obito's head, entreating, insistent. _Even if no one else in the world has earned your loyalty, stay for Kakashi. He needs you._ And…it’s true, Obito realizes with surprise. Kakashi wants him here. Kakashi—

He pushes himself up, every muscle weak and watery even as they obey him. It takes a moment to find his balance so he won't go tumbling over the side of the bed, but as soon as he does, he reaches out, curling his free hand around Kakashi's shoulder and tugging gently. “Come here,” he huffs, and Kakashi comes without looking at him, slides with impossible care onto the mattress beside Obito with their hands still entwined.

“Hey,” Obito urges, tugging harder, and Kakashi glances up, the grey eyes that Obito hasn’t seen clearly in over fifteen years wary and questioning. Obito smiles at him, and it’s a sad, crooked thing given the way his face is so unfamiliar with the expression, given his scars, but it’s a smile not shaped by bitterness or irony, and that’s something to be grateful for. Something to celebrate, surely. “Hey,” he says again, and the tone is light but his words are serious. “I'm not—I'm not going to promise it won't happen again. I can't. But I’ll try, okay? I’ll try to stay alive. For you.”

Kakashi stares at him for a long, endless moment, and the air feels thick between them, fraught, but not wrong. It’s like sparring, the half-second of locked gazes that heralds the final blows, and—

Kakashi leans forward, free hand sliding up to curl around Obito's neck, pulls his mask down, and tugs Obito forward into a slow, gentle, careful kiss.

Obito's breath catches. He freezes, because he’s never kissed anyone before, never even thought about it after Rin died. And before, he’d only really thought about her. Her and Kakashi, if he’s honest with himself, though he hasn’t been in years. Mostly Rin, but…he’d imagined what it might be like, to have someone like Kakashi touch him that way, even just _look_ at him that way. All sharp edges, he’d thought. Sharpness and demands and that maddening, nearly addictive edge of arrogance only Kakashi ever had, take take take and only a pittance given back.

The reality is nothing like his imagination, though. Kakashi is careful, as though Obito is something breakable, leading and coaxing with the cautious press of lips and just the barest edge of tongue. Obito leans in before he can help himself, the sharp edge of his thoughts blunted with heat and want and the nearly-forgotten brush of someone else’s skin against his. He feels hyper-alert, every nerve set alight as Kakashi curls an arm around his waist and tugs him that little bit closer.

They part a bare inch to breathe, Obito still mostly frozen in shock, and Kakashi looks—looks…

Looks at him like he’s everything, like Obito is safety for a drowning man, the last harbor in a storm. Like he’s home with family waiting, food after an endless fast. Water in the desert and the air to a hawk’s wings and too many other things to name, all wrapped up and returned to him even after he thought them lost forever.

“Then I’ll have to keep an eye on you and make sure nothing like that ever happens again,” Kakashi says roughly, and leans in again, using the advantage of the six centimeters he has on Obito to tilt Obito's head up and make the next kiss deeper, tongues sliding together, breath shared between them. Obito had always been a little weirded out, as a kid, by the way some of the chuunin and tokujo kissed, looking like they were going to eat each other from the mouth down, but—

But if this is what it feels like, he really can't blame them. Because it’s heat and an impossible sort of closeness and _intimacy_ in a way he’s never known, and he can feel Kakashi against every inch of him, even where they aren’t touching.

The hand in his hair tightens, then releases and sweeps down, a broad palm dragging over his skin and sending shivers down his spine. Obito lets out a breath that slides into a moan, leaning closer, and Kakashi breaks the kiss with a sound somewhere between frustration and wonder. He half-turns, pushes, and Obito goes tense for a fraction of a second, fighter’s instinct kicking in, before he lands on his back on the soft mattress with Kakashi sprawled out on top of him. Obito's breath catches on a groan, because that’s pressure and closeness and _interesting_ , and Kakashi's face is bare inches from his, grey eyes intent and just the faintest bit wary.

 _Of me_ , Obito thinks, raising a careful hand to trace the scar over Kakashi's left eye, the scar he got saving Obito, coming back and abandoning the mission for Obito's sake.

It’s one thing to wage a war against Kakashi, to see him as the enemy who failed to save Rin, to go to battle against him with hatred and agony clawing at his heart. It’s another entirely to see that expression directed at him here and now, under such different circumstances.

Kakashi closes his eyes and leans into the touch, head falling forward until their noses brush and foreheads bump, and Obito twists his fingers into the thick, silvery hair that’s always fascinated him. It’s dense, stiffer than he expected, edging towards wiry, and he smiles in delight at this discovery. Something new, something simple, rather than retracing old hurts and tearing scabs from barely-healed wounds. Obito can work with that.

There's a shift, a soft sound, and Kakashi kisses the smile right off his lips, covers Obito completely and overwhelms him until all he can focus on is the heat of Kakashi's skin and the press of his mouth and the careful, careful drag of his clever fingers as they slide under the light yukata and drag ever so slowly down his sides.

And then there's a shriek, loud and offended, and every shinobi-trained instinct in Obito goes off like a firecracker. He throws himself to the side, one arm clutching Kakashi to him as he rolls them off the bed with his chakra already rising. Before he can do anything, though, before he can even begin to direct it, a familiar voice cuts through the blur of near-panic.

“Kakashi-sensei, _what are you doing_?”

Kakashi rolls his eyes, like that’s _at_ _all_ an appropriate response to being caught kissing someone who was once his mortal enemy, and sits up, pulling Obito with him. An arm loops around Obito's waist, stubbornly immovable, and Kakashi smiles at him, ignoring his pink-haired student. “Maa, maa, Obito. You're safe here.”

He honestly, truly believes that, Obito realizes, staring into those familiar grey eyes. Tension eases out of his muscles without any conscious thought, and he blinks in confusion at his former teammate, just as—

A clipboard slams down, impacting the top of Kakashi's head with a dull crash, and the Copy-Nin yelps, ducking forward like he’s going to hide behind Obito. Seeing as Obito can barely even hold himself upright, let alone face down the furious-looking kunoichi apparently after her teacher’s blood, it’s probably not the best idea. Then again, it’s not like Kakashi is known for good ideas at all.

“—could you?” Sakura is spitting when Obito finally remembers to listen. “He’s a _patient_! Keep your perverted fantasies to yourself until he’s released, sensei!”

Shuffling to keep Obito in between himself and the girl, Kakashi—mask firmly back in place—says winsomely, “But, Sakura, do you know how many Icha Icha plots start in a hospital bed—ow!”

Ignoring the betrayed look he’s receiving for that hard pinch, Obito grabs the edge of the bed and attempts to lever himself to his feet. It’s fairly disheartening that he only manages it when Sakura takes his elbow and helps him.

“You can't use ‘plot’ and ‘Icha Icha’ in the same sentence unless it’s ironically,” he says dryly. “Or framed as a negative. Now get off the floor, Bakashi.”

Kakashi raises a brow at him, and the innocent look on his face should be its own warning. “But you're the one who put me here, Obito. While I'm down here, is there anything you want me to—?”

“I'm going to kick you,” Sakura threatens. “And if you make one more dirty joke in this room, I'll be kicking you right out of the hospital.”

“You're so cruel to your old sensei,” Kakashi says mournfully, as gets to his feet. “Where did his cute little genin go?”

“Stop talking about yourself in third person. It’s creepy.”

That flat voice is familiar, and Obito glances up from pulling the heavy blankets back over himself—he wasn’t lying when he told Kakashi that he was always cold—to see his cousin standing in the doorway, an equally familiar shock of blond hair bobbing behind him. He freezes, but Sasuke gives him a small, slightly hesitant smile that makes the heart turn over in Obito's chest.

Naruto appears over the taller boy’s shoulder, waving cheerfully. “Hey, Obito!” he calls brightly. “You look a lot better than when you were all grey!”

Obito glances down at his hands to find that his skin has indeed gone back to a more natural color than the ash-tone of the Juubi’s host, which is a relief. “Thanks,” he says, allowing himself another unpracticed smile, and enjoys the way it makes Naruto beam even more brilliantly. “Did they make you Hokage yet, kid?”

Naruto just laughs. “Nope! But Baa-chan said she’s going to start me training as soon as things calm down, and then once I know everything she’ll retire.”

“A terrifying idea,” Sasuke murmurs, dust-dry, but he steps into the room and cautiously hovers at the foot of Obito's bed. Dark eyes study the other Uchiha carefully, and then he says, “Everyone who died in the battle is alive again. Do you know why?”

“Sasuke!” Sakura protests, clipboard lifting threateningly again. “He just woke up! We should give him time to—”

“I think so,” Obito interrupts, giving Sakura a quick glance in apology. A hand slides over his arm, then around his shoulders, and he looks up as Kakashi settles beside him on the bed, pressing close. “Rin—Rin was there, after I died. She said something about using up her chakra to bring me back, and…going back into the reincarnation cycle. I think…it must have been the same for everyone.”

Sakura hums thoughtfully, green eyes narrowing. “Inoichi woke up talking about his wife,” she offers, considering. “But she died ten years ago. I thought it was a hallucination or something, but maybe it wasn’t. If the—the ghosts, the souls drew power from wherever they were, and then from themselves, to push the souls that were crossing over back into life…it’s possible. Maybe Orochimaru or someone would have a better idea, but for now, just that it’s happened is enough.”

“More than,” Kakashi says quietly, and he’s smiling. Obito looks away, remembering the heat of lips, the touch of skin. His lips still tingle from that last kiss, and he can feel where Kakashi touched him like phantom traces of fire, despite the chill of the room and the fact that he’s wearing only a thin yukata. Cold is something he’s used to, after all, but touch—

Touch is something special. Something new. Something dear.

“Yeah,” Naruto says, and he’s grinning again, standing next to Sasuke by the foot of the bed. The two boys glance at each other, and then Naruto throws an arm around Sasuke's shoulders, clearly trying to make the gesture casual but missing by a mile. Obito turns a laugh into a cough, seeing the matching flicker of amusement in Kakashi's eyes, and turns his face away to hide his expression. Obligingly, Kakashi uses the arm around his back to pull him in, tucking Obito against his chest. For a moment, Obito thinks of objecting, but…doesn’t.

He wants this, wants it more than he has anything in a long time, and for once he’s not going to allow himself to lose it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sakura grinning, but she doesn’t say anything to him. Instead, she taps her clipboard against her leg, then orders, “Okay, everybody out. Obito needs to rest.”

“But—” Kakashi tries.

Sakura gives her former teacher a sharp look, then rolls her eyes and sighs resignedly. “Yes, yes, you can stay. I get the feeling you’d just crawl back in the window if I dragged you out anyways.” She brandishes her clipboard threateningly, and adds, “But nothing pervy! He needs to _sleep_ , Kakashi-sensei, and you need rest too.”

Kakashi rearranges his expression into something appropriately obedient. “Of course. I’ll make sure of it.”

Sakura's answering glance is supremely doubtful, but she just turns away and starts herding the boys out of the room. Naruto waves, Sasuke nods, and then the door closes behind them.

Kakashi, in an unexpected show of foresight, slips off the mattress, trots over, and locks it.

“Not that it will stop any of them,” he says rather mournfully as he slides back onto the bed, dragging the covers up over himself and tugging and pulling until Obito is pressed against his side. “But it should at least give us a little warning.”

Obito snorts, but he’s too warm and comfortable to really object to anything, and just lets his head drop onto Kakashi's shoulder. He can smell warm earth cut through with the faintest hint of blood, and while it’s not exactly comforting, it’s…familiar. Welcome. “Maybe later, dear,” he says dryly. “I have a headache right now.”

Kakashi laughs and kisses his hair, and…Obito can't remember the last time he felt so at peace. There's a knot of anger in him still, a thread of cold calculation, but he’s a shinobi and that’s to be expected. Maybe the Alliance will have him drummed up on (admittedly, entirely justified) charges, and maybe this peace is only temporary. But Obito has lived the life of a missing-nin since he was thirteen, and even temporary is enough for him.

“Thanks, Kakashi,” he whispers, sleep already tugging at his thoughts, and feels gentle fingers brush his cheek, tracing over his scars. For once, he finds that he doesn’t mind them at all.

“No problem, Obito,” Kakashi whispers back, and Obito presses his face into warm cloth and warmer skin, and pretends that his eyes aren’t prickling with tears the way they haven’t in almost twenty years.

 _Thank you, Rin_ , he offers silently, and thinks that somewhere far distant, he can hear her laughing.


End file.
